


Soft Static

by PrinceBaphomet



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceBaphomet/pseuds/PrinceBaphomet
Summary: Miles awakens in a motel room and tries to collect himself, the Walrider intervenes





	Soft Static

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written anything in my life but one night inspiration struck me and I typed this up in an evening, I hope it's good enough for y'all. Also I'm sorry there's not any tags outside the fandom/ship tags IDK what to put there

Awakening

 

Miles finds himself in a trashy motel room, with only the vaguest memories of getting there, of drifting while ensnared in SWARM, of slamming a handful of cash on a counter, apparently either aggressive or plentiful enough to avoid being asked questions

 

But his head buzzes with his own questions.

 

How far is he from THE MOUNTAIN?

 

How long has he been here? How long was he OUT?

 

Who stole his car? (He wonders about this both because all his STUFF was in there, and for the sake of the thief, who might’ve been in worse shape than he was.)

 

What, truly, is the THING that overtook his vessel?

 

There aren’t answers right now, there are other things to attend to.

 

Strip.

 

Shower.

 

Cough up Black Fluid. Don’t worry about it.

 

Have THE THING, THE SWARM come back to his mind.Static overwhelms.

 

“SHUT THE *FUCK* UP”

 

It subsides immediately in response to that, and he’s instantly hit with the feeling he was worryingly loud

 

Inspect bullet wounds. Scarred over already.

 

Inspect mangled hands. Missing fingers were replaced with matte black talons.

 

Hm.

 

He considers getting dressed again but doesn’t bother,those clothes are soaked with blood. Suffering. Trauma.Something he desperately wants to be separate from right now.

 

Checks for one way mirrors even though he’s aware it’s a little late for that

 

Turns on the TV, sweet background noise

 

He bitterly regrets leaving his phone in the car, craving music. Or contact.

 

Not Contact. Contact would endanger friends. He can only go this alone.

 

Considers looking over footage on his camera. His poor, wounded camera.

 

Not now. Can’t handle that now.

 

He sits down on the bed, takes a moment to think.

 

Unspeakable traumas well up in his brain.He tries to push them back and then.

 

S T A T I C

 

He wants to scream at it again but… the interference soothes.He can still FEEL bitter horrid things but they’re… Softened.Obfuscated.

 

“Why are you helping me?”

 

Bright, chirping static, and it manifests, reminding him of things he’s read about shadow-people

 

He is frozen by… Awe? Uncertainty? Not fear. Probably not fear.

 

Maybe Fear.

 

It gently headbutts him, nuzzles him.Like a cat. If he didn’t know better he could’ve sworn it purred.

 

He initially assumed it merely wanted a host. He killed its previous host, he assumed it was an inheritance, perhaps even a curse, in a way.

 

But now… Does it want Companionship? A “friend”?

 

Can it even conceive of friendship?

 

Several considerations about the being before him well in Miles’ brain, even with that trauma still thrums in the back of his mind.

 

The Swarm gently runs its talons over the scars on his chest, as if admiring its own work, staticky purrs punctuated with sharp chirps all the while, and nuzzles him again.

 

Such gentle contact after so much manhandling, abuse, cruelty up on THE MOUNTAIN is almost jarring, he wants more, he needs more.

 

Miles flops back on the bed, and the Swarm follows to hover gently above him, but soon shifts to weightlessly perch upon him.

 

He reaches to pull it in to kiss it, does it even have a mouth? He half-expects to pass right through it, for its form to part like water in response to even a gentle touch. It remains solid upon contact.

 

As it is pulled forward its face splits open to reveal a mouth, or a mimicry of one, containing a tentacle-like tongue.

 

And they do kiss, Miles’ mouth is almost flooded with metallic-tasting nanites going almost liquid, he’s certain he swallows some of it. Does that matter? He knows the Swarm already runs through his veins. Everything feels Dreamy, Hazy, Beautiful in this moment.

 

Almost drowned by the flood, Miles pulls away to breath. Does he even need to breath? That question is irrelevant right now.

 

Coming out of the dreamy haze of the kiss, Miles was struck by the flush of arousal, his dick rapidly hardening.

 

The Swarm took notice of this and formed a serpentine shaft, which it wrapped around Miles’ cock gently, elegantly. Miles let out a soft moan as he was ensnared, and bucked his hips, the Swarm responding with nuzzling, licking, gentle bites, twitches and shifts of vaguely-liquid pseudo-phallus.Kisses, reciprocation, hands sinking into soft, vague form.

 

Tighter, writhing coils. Sharp orgasmic bliss.Miles breaks into incoherent, babbling prayer, uncertain real words are even emerging from from his mouth.Momentarily completely BELIEVING he has been chosen by a GOD. Dopamine briefly erasing doubt in divinity.

 

The Swarm uncoils, and settles back into nuzzle-purr-chirp affection, Miles basks in the gentle glow of it all, and slips back into slumber.

 

There are still things to worry about, but not now.

**Author's Note:**

> Special shout-out to my boyfriend who read this and said it was good enough to post online


End file.
